


Familiar Sights & Smells

by lesbomancy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 01:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbomancy/pseuds/lesbomancy
Summary: Angela returns to her Zurich apartment after a taxing stint helping with disaster relief abroad.Day 1 of the Challenge Yourself: A Month of Fanfiction





	Familiar Sights & Smells

A twelve-hour sleepless flight that was the night cap to a thirty-eight hour day of Angela helping recover the lost, hurt and scared from the sight of the world's most recent disaster wasn't exactly healthy. She knew it despite caffeinating heavily, figuring that she'd get all the rest she needed once she got home. Though the price of looking professional had its woes; her heels, even if they weren't that much of a raise, made her feet ache and her neck and shoulders were as stiff as stones. By the time she got into the cab and gave the address for her apartment in Zurich she felt her calves crying out for mercy, as well as her lower back. Angela was almost afraid of the lines that would be pressed into her skin, wondering how long she'd have the straps of her bra branded into her skin... and how many washes it would take to get the sweat out of everything she was wearing. Her apartment door slid open like it did a thousand times before, the dim light of the moon being the only source of light. As soon as she crossed the threshold she felt safer, calmer, and less weighty. Shedding her coat and sweater to the rack by the door, she stretched her neck and shoulders with unnecessarily loud crackles and pops. The lights above detected her motion and quickly illuminated the modest but modernly decorated apartment.

Her pointer fingers wedged themselves between her heel of her foot and her pumps, loosening it so she could place them in a shoe caddy that doubled as a stool. Most of the cubbies were inhabited by her own shoes but through the months Fareeha had begun to leave one or two pairs of her own over as she slowly moved in with Angela. It was a work in progress, one that Angela was happy for. A big move of any sort for a woman as busy as she was would disrupt her schedule and while she wasn't as strict as others, she still had an upbringing that almost resembled that of a military brat; nearly all of her father figures were military and the rigidity of medicine only honed those habits further. Fareeha was far from a mess but she was a different person with a different life, their intermingling something that could only succeed at a pace they both agreed upon.

Catching sight of that beat-up leather jacket that she hated and loved, Angela couldn't help herself but touch the web-like cracks in the faux leather. She caressed the beat-up markings until her fingertips met the fabric of the Helix Security Systems logo, and an old 'Overwatch' novelty patch. Knowing that Fareeha likely tried to stay up to greet her, Angela moved to the living room. Seeing no sign of her girlfriend, she frowned. Maybe She forgot it? Angela felt it unlikely, as Fareeha didn't forget anything. It was part of what drew them together in the first place, the two of them very professional, objective-minded women with a drive to help others. Forgetting things, to them, was just a way to fail to help someone. Angela quietly mulled over how childish the thought really was - forgetting something didn't exactly make her lesser and if Fareeha truly did forget her jacket, was it the end of the world?

She knew well enough that her sleep deprivation was having her brain scramble and consider useless hypotheticals.

Vowing to text Fareeha when she wasn't so tired her vision felt like it was doubling, Angela made her way to the bedroom. When the motion-activated light came on, her lips curled upwards into a sickeningly sweet smile. She was slain, instantly, by the sight of Fareeha Amari in nothing but a pair of boy shorts and a tank top curled into a semicircle on the bed they shared. From the looks of it, she was going to try and stay up to greet her, welcome her back home. She failed, the very quiet sound of her snoring the only noise that filled the room beyond Angela undressing and making sure her laundry was well-organized for the day after travel. She sighed a half dozen times as she got ready for bed, always turning back to look at Fareeha as she slept, admiring every curve and texture on her. There was something about travel that just made her more akin to a lovelorn 12-year-old than the grown woman she was.

Angela eased herself into the bed, her arm sliding to rest on Fareeha's hip. She pressed her cold, skinny nose against her lover's shoulder and with little more than a sleepy jerk, Fareeha barely acknowledged her. This was the part she loved the most: when Fareeha slept heavily. She could map her lover's scars and curves, every line and wrinkle became something to play with and lose herself in, more than a good book ever did. Even now she was considering it despite having little energy to do anything but pucker her lips against Fareeha's bare shoulder, rubbing her face against the texture of her lover's skin, soaking in the smell of her body wash and the natural smell of her skin. Her lips pressed, again and again, Angela ensuring that any exposed piece of Fareeha's shoulder was properly given affection before she even considered sleeping.

She realized that her apartment wasn't a home unless she had Fareeha in it. Her leg hooked over one of Fareeha's and she spooned her lover tightly, her hand falling down over Fareeha's stomach so she could pull herself impossibly close, nestling into Fareeha until anything more would've been considered grinding. She was in love with Fareeha, a sort of love where after all the woes of the Earth meant little when she had the embrace of her lover.

Even if Fareeha snored it was all worth it. The suffering, the stress, the pain. All of it.


End file.
